


take these broken wings and learn to fly

by cluelessclown



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 15:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21358183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cluelessclown/pseuds/cluelessclown
Summary: Thomas has never given Jimmy's interests much thought before, so it does strike him as a surprise when he finds out that his new boyfriend is not only a rather gifted pianist but also a fervent Beatles fan.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	take these broken wings and learn to fly

Jimmy’s flat is just as disastrous as Thomas had expected it to be, but there is a certain warmth to the unkempt mess that constitutes his living room that makes him smile when he first steps into it.

“I can’t believe you,” he chuckles as he picks up a dirty pair of slips from the floor, right next to the sofa. “You’re like . . . an exceptionally handsome and tall twelve-year-old.”

“Oi, Barrow!” Jimmy protests, elbowing his side (without letting go of his hand just yet). “S’not that terrible, really. Everything’s right where I want it to be.”

“Except for the dumpster, maybe?” He gives Jimmy’s bottom a gentle, feigningly reproachful smack before taking a seat on the sofa.

Jimmy grins before following suit. “Wanker.”

Thomas laughs. He’s been doing that a lot recently, and he is still growing used to the sound of his own bubbly, hearty laugh whenever Jimmy is around. They’ve been seeing each other for over a month now, but most of their encounters eventually led them back to Thomas’s flat, with Jimmy’s own place having remained a mystery to him until right now. He has never really minded it, though — he knows being right next to the coffee shop where he works always comes in handy for a heavy sleeper like Jimmy, and he secretly loves waking up to the sight of him snoring quietly, his blond hair resting against the pillows that he mindlessly bought when he first moved to London, as though they had always been meant to be grazed by Jimmy Kent’s head. Still, it is somewhat relieving to finally get to see the place where Jimmy sleeps and lives when he’s not with him — even if it’s just as dreadful as he had imagined it.

His tone, however, shifts to a gentler one when his eyes fall on the small piano that rests against the wall, its lid perfectly dusted and the seat in front of it surprisingly well kept. 

He flashes a half-smile at Jimmy. “You play the piano?”

“I . . . well, yeah, I do.” There’s an unusually shy expression on Jimmy’s face, which makes Thomas feel only slightly startled. “Been playing it ever since I was a wee lad, actually. I took lessons back in Durham all through school, then moved here in hopes of studying at the RCM, but I, uh, didn’t get a scholarship because my school grades weren’t good enough, so I couldn’t afford it.”

“Oh.” Thomas muses quietly. It still amazes him to realize that there’s a lot to Jimmy that he hasn’t learned yet. “You could always save up for it? Or find a cheaper school?”

“Nah, s’all right, I s’pose,” he shrugs and rests his forehead against Thomas’s shoulder, looking only slightly taken aback by the memory. “I don’t know, I just . . . I was _shite_ at school growing up, but then I found out that there was this one thing that I was good at. I learned how to play the piano, the guitar; I even did some drums back in Upper Sixth Form. It was pretty much what kept me from ditching it all and not finishing school. S’not like I wanted to become our century’s bloody Mozart, mind you, I would’ve been all right with just teaching Music at some school and playing at a pub every other weekend. But I guess I just wasn’t good enough.”

“Don’t say that.” Thomas almost feels surprised by the softness of his own voice. He rubs the nape of Jimmy’s neck for a few seconds, and finally adds, “I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end. Just don’t give up on it, all right?”

“I won’t,” Jimmy says, shaking his head. “I play piano every day — except when I’m with you, of course. Now that I think about it, you’ve actually become a _massive _distraction on my way to musical success.” He nuzzles against Thomas’s neck with a feeble smile, not quite letting go of his hand just yet.

Thomas has to hold a smile at the feeling of Jimmy’s nose against the small of his neck. He still hasn’t grown used to, well, this — the amount of intimacy that entails being in a relationship with someone, the way Jimmy’s breath tickles his neck and makes his insides churn whenever he laughs or speaks or snores or merely exists. “Well then, I shouldn’t keep you from practicing. Go play something for me, will you?”

Jimmy’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “What, now?” Thomas nods, and he does a light chuckle. “Well, I . . . all right, I s’pose we could give it a try.”

Thomas’s heart melts a little when Jimmy stands up and tugs on his hand with a broad smile, as though inviting him to join him by the piano. His knee bumps against Jimmy’s when he takes a seat next to him, and he has to refrain himself from placing a gentle hand on his thigh as he observes how Jimmy gets ready in front of the piano. It now startles him to think that he has never given Jimmy’s interests much thought before — he knows that he likes his coffee frothy and creamy and that he absolutely loathes tea, and that he goes to the movies as often as he can because there’s something about those good old moving pictures that has fascinated him ever since he was a little boy. He doesn’t really do reading, but he enjoys a good detective story, and he happens to be a die-hard Manchester United enthusiast. But he has never even thought of the possibility of his new boyfriend being a _musician_ — perhaps because music was a rather foreign discipline to him while growing up, with the Crawley girls upstairs being so fond of classical music and their private piano lessons while he kicked an old football around by the barn and pretended not to look too sore when Sybil rambled on about the new violin that her uncle had brought all the way from New York for her. He has always enjoyed music, and he has had the chance to see a couple of jazz and ballet shows over the course of the years, but he has never even dreamed of being with someone as devoted to music as Jimmy seemed to be when his fingertips grazed the keys of his piano, a soft smile on his face as his fingers began to trace a melody that Thomas, coincidentally enough, has learned to love over the course of the years.

“Ah, the good old Beatles,” he chuckles, shaking his head a little. However, his eyebrows rise in surprise when Jimmy softly begins to sing along to the tune. His singing isn’t bad at all, and he quietly allows himself to relish on the sound of his voice as it intertwines with the melody of the piano. He lets his hand rest on Jimmy’s thigh and closes his eyes as he listens to the delightfully organic feeling that comes with listening to his boyfriend’s musical skills, and silently wishes he could feel as peaceful and as over the moon as he is right now every single day of his life.

“Well?” Jimmy’s fingers gently move away from the keyboard and fall on top of Thomas’s, a meek smile on the blond man’s face.

Thomas does a half-smile and pulls Jimmy’s hand up to his lips. “It’s beautiful, Jim. You really do need to share this with the rest of the world, you know.” Jimmy’s ears have gone pink, and Thomas can’t help but smile at that, too.

“Don’t be such a sap,” the younger man replies modestly, in spite of the bright smile that has appeared on his face. He squeezes Thomas’s hand and presses an identical kiss onto it before adding, “Thank you, Tom.”

“Don’t thank me,” and Thomas bites his lip, because he’s never dared say things like the one that's itching at the back of his head out loud, but he grins and supposes that he doesn’t really give a damn about pretending anymore and adds, “I love your voice. And the way you’ve just . . . lightened up as soon as you began playing. I jus’ want you to keep doing what makes you happy, all right?”

His heart races at the possibility of having said too much, because they’ve only been seeing each other for a little over a month. But the grin that spreads across Jimmy’s face suggests that he’s done just the right thing.

“That I will,” Jimmy nods, his hands gently pulling Thomas towards him by the collar of his shirt until their lips are only inches apart. “But since _you_ also happen to make me tremendously happy I was, you know, hoping you’d let me _do_ you for a bit now.”

Thomas grins, and licks his own lips before gently brushing them against Jimmy’s. “That’d be _fantastic_.”

He is still musing the lyrics to _Blackbird_ when they both reach Jimmy’s room, and he can’t help but laugh when he realizes that it is just as disheveled as the rest of his boyfriend’s flat.


End file.
